


besan burfi

by heck_but_an_account_babeyy



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Fluff, My fucking god! These bitches gay! Good for them! Good for them., Post-Canon, Trans Ajay Ghale, ajay is a writer and also the softest bitch on the planet, i am VERY sorry for the supernatural reference, me too girl, reader threatens to Beat Up Cops, this is pure foolishness and i love it to death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heck_but_an_account_babeyy/pseuds/heck_but_an_account_babeyy
Summary: Ajay tries to write his book, while you distract him with monologues that shouldreallybe internal. There's some burfi, too. It's a real fun time.
Relationships: Ajay Ghale/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	besan burfi

**Author's Note:**

> context for one of lines: according to WHO, when a pregnant woman contracts ebola virus, it persists in her breastmilk for fuckin AGES after she recovers. super dangerous for the baby! for this reason, the cdc advises women who have/had ebola virus to not breastfeed. this makes ebola far more dangerous for pregnant women - yes for the obvious reasons, but also because in poor developing countries, mothers will struggle to find an alternative to the contaminated milk. this could lead to malnourishment and/or stunting (when a kid doesn't grow properly) in the baby, which is ALREADY a problem for mothers in poverty. it's just a shitty double whammy, man. plus in a lot of areas there's also a lack of awareness regarding ebola virus in breast milk - so if the mother doesn't know, she could unwittingly infect her kid. education with mickey, baby? dude i swear i'm not trying to achieve comedy, this is just The Shit I'm Thinking About and i MUST share my knowledge. anyway,

“You are so gay,” you declare, throwing yourself onto the mattress with an oof. Sitting on said mattress with a computer on his lap and a deep frown on his face, Ajay looks up at you, perplexed.

“Huh?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this a lot, actually, because it’s just very epic. Poggers, as the kids say.” You shuffle over to his side and rest your head on his shoulder. For a moment, he’s stiff - then he melts into your warmth, like a really adorable marshmallow over a super sexy flame. Fluffy baby hair trails down the back of his neck, and it tickles your cheek as you nudge into his side. “Like - if I’m nonbinary, then technically, whatever I do is gay. Dating a girl? Gay. Dating a guy? Super homo, dude. Dating another enby? Legally, that makes me the biggest lesbian of them all.” 

“I’m not sure if that would hold up in court,” Ajay says absently, wrapping a hand around your shoulder as he taps away at his keyboard. _Clack clack clack._ His hands are sturdy, calloused; his thumb starts rubbing little circles on your shoulder, and you notice those hands are stupidly warm, too. But not sweaty, despite their temperature? That’s, like, some holy nonsense, man. You really have lucked out with this one. 

“Nah, it totally would. All the laws still have he or she written instead of they. So I’m, like, basically emancipated. I can do whatever I want! Arson, battery, even armed robbery if I was in that kinda mood, you know what I’m talking about.” You tangle your fingers in his soft, soft hair and press a kiss to his temple. Looking up at you with warm brown eyes, he smiles, and that shit hits you like a thousand suns. You beam right back.

“Dude,” you continue, “I could beat up _so_ many cops. All the cops. You name it. Not like there’s any cops to beat up in Kyrat, but there’s cops when we visit America for the UN meetings! And remember that guy at the police precinct in Canada who fuckinnnn, fuckin did that thing?” Ajay nods thoughtfully. “Boom, he’s now super-acquainted with my fists. And - legally - nobody can do anything. Legally.”

“Huh,” Ajay says - then he leans forward and kisses you. Lips a soft brush against yours, hot and smooth and tasting vaguely of cardamom, or maybe burfi; the rich, nutty kind made of besan and real khoya and stuffed with dried fruit. The kind you were baking just yesterday- and doesn’t that make you all warm inside. When he pulls away, he’s smiling again. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Please don’t beat up any cops,” he murmurs. “It probably won’t be good for your political career.”

“Dude, are you kidding? The leftists would _love_ me.” He laughs, a warm puff of air against your neck, and the sound vibrates through your very veins. 

“The leftists already love you. You’ve been trending on Twitter seven times since Kyrati politics went global. I have seen _so_ many of your fancams.”

“Could always use some more liberal lovin’, my guy.” You perk up. “...If I beat up a cop, do you think AOC would follow me on Twitter?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you erupt into giggles. “Nope, no violence, not until my book gets published and we can afford for you to get fired. Let’s go back to the peace. What were you saying about me being so gay?”

“Oh yeah, right! So like I was saying, I’m gay no matter who I date, which means you’re gay too.”

He frowns. “I, uh. Already knew I was bi? And I’ve been trans for over 26 years, which already puts me in the acronym-”

“Shhh, that doesn’t go with my narrative at _all.”_ You bonk him on the nose, and he goes cross-eyed trying to follow your finger, like the adorable man he is. “Work with me here, amigo. Okay, so, I can totally prove that you’re a raging homosexual. Like that Castiel guy. Exhibit number one: right here.” You prod at his lips, which are still shimmering with your lipbalm, and his tongue darts out to lick your finger. With a shriek, you snatch your hand away. _“Dude!_ Gross!” He cackles - fucking _cackles_ \- and grabs it back to press a kiss on your knuckles. Eyes glinting, he gazes up at you through his lashes. “Okay, that is very sweet though.” You admire the gentle curve of his cheekbones. Man, you still have no clue what you did to deserve Ajay. But you’re gonna treasure this miracle regardless. “Bruh. Anyway, what I was _trying_ to say is that you just kissed me. You kissed me so well that your lips are now covered in Glossier Balm Dotcom- shade Birthday Cake, actually. And that’s pretty gay.”

“Mhm,” Ajay murmurs, still busy brushing his lips against each of your fingertips; which is fair enough, to be honest, if you were him, you’d probably be busy kissing your fingertips too. They’re nice fingers, if you do say so yourself. “What’s exhibit number two?”

“Oh, look who’s interested in my exhibits all of a sudden?”

Pausing, Ajay meets your gaze, eyes painfully earnest. “I’m always interested in you,” he says softly. And okay, great, now you’re gonna die a slow and fluffy death, all because of your stupidly sweet boyfriend. This is just poggers. Absolutely epic.

“...Damn,” you manage to choke out. “Okay, uh. You know what, that was exhibit number two. Exhibit number final, even. Can’t get gayer than that. Come along to the homo award ceremony, win a queer trophy, do a gay little dance, the whole mile.”

“You’re funny,” he murmurs. Presses a kiss to the veins on your wrist. His hot lips linger on your pulse, and your breath catches, heart pounding like a drum. _THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP._ There’s no way he can’t hear it. But he just keeps moving up your arm, one kiss at a time.

“Really? Because I’m not trying to be funny, you know, no need to flatter me. This is just me. Unadulterated. Lesbian. I mean- I’m not lesbian any more, you have me switching teams all over the place, but I was for a while. Lesbians still love me, of course. You can’t find hot enby ass like this just _anywhere._ ...Oh my god, okay, somebody shut me up. What was I talking about before this? Something about cops, and violence, but you told me to- ah!” 

Surging forward, he silences your squeak with his lips on your mouth and his hand in your hair. Fingers carding through the mess, dancing across your scalp; his touch is deliberate, painstakingly gentle, like you’re something more precious than life itself. A steady hand wraps around your waist. His lips are insistent but still so _gentle._

What the actual fuck, man? You can’t get over this shit. Ajay is a force to rival hurricanes, he’s liberated an entire country - and if this was a battle royale game popular amongst Reddit users (naming no names), his kill streak would land him directly on the leaderboard. Up there with the fuckin, uh, the fuckin Samurai guy. You don’t know, man, you’ve never played the game, but- still. Ajay is _insanely_ powerful. 

Yet he chooses to spend his days with you. Some geeky politician, born miles away from Kyrat’s mountains, and armed with nothing but hope and a serious rambling problem. Jesus, you’ve never shot a gun in your life! But he’s still here with you. Writing his book, kissing, playing with your hair. Being so stupidly soft that it’s impossible to imagine all the blood on his hands. 

_Blood on his hands._ Okay, not gonna lie, you’re… maybe a little freaked out by his past. The whole ‘I have killed more men than you could ever comprehend’ thing is a wee bit disturbing, even if it was in self-defence. (Mostly.) You’ll work through it, though. Because you love him. 

Shit, yeah, okay. Grinning, you grab him by the hair and kiss him back. You love him. Like, with a capital L, Love him. You’re a total fucking dork and you _adore_ this moron. Not like you’re gonna tell him, it’s only been six months - you may not be a lesbian any more but by God does the U-Haul instinct remain, like Ebola virus in an unsuspecting woman’s breast milk, and okay internal monologue, time to shut the fuck up. But _anyway_. Even though you’re not gonna tell him, you can still bask in the realisation. It’s nice, to be in love. Fucking nice. 69 420 pogchamp, the whole shebang. 

Ajay kisses you deep and slow. “You know that burfi you made?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Can we, maybe… bake some more of it? Together this time?” He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and looks you in the eyes. Who gave him the right to be so pretty? Seriously, who, you wanna have a nice long chat with them, because it’s not even fair. Nothing of this earth should be allowed to have eyes so warm and intense and sincere. They’re the most beautiful shade of dark brown you’ve ever seen, not even gonna lie. “Because I, uh, I maybe ate it all. Last night. And also for lunch. It was really good, thank you so much for making it - you’re an amazing chef, you know that?”

“Aw, thanks, man! ‘Course I’d love to cook with you.” Blushing a little _(blushing!_ You!), you kiss his temple. “Anything for my Ajay.”

**Author's Note:**

> IM SCREAMINGGGGGG TRANS AJAY GHALE IS A CANON TAG NOW???? LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO!!!!! the power..... anyway i hope y'all're doing well! covid must be called These Times the way it's Trying us, so drink a whole glass of water buddy, and watch some goddamn jus reign vines


End file.
